


A Cup of Kindness

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, M/M, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he leaves to go find Sam, Castiel makes one last stop in heaven. (Spoilers for 9.23)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cup of Kindness

Before he leaves to go find Sam, Castiel makes one last stop in heaven.

It has been a long time since he's been anywhere in the human side, but even longer still to this place, to this nice house in the imaginary heart of Kansas, where the memory of happier times and uncharred wood lives on forever.

His visit here is long overdue, but he hopes he can be forgiven for his tardiness. 

"Castiel?" Mary asks, as she opens the door before he even has an opportunity to knock. 

He looks at her, in all her eternal youth, and thinks of Dean. He looks at her with a solemn, set gaze. "Mary," he nods, waiting to be invited in.

The first and only time before he had come here out of a different kind of loss. It had been the middle of a war, and Dean and Sam further and further from his reach every day. Of course, it was a fate of his own making, but perhaps that only made it hurt more.

Castiel doesn't quite remember what had prompted him to come her of all places, that first time. His yearning for but distance from Dean is an obvious one, but he could always just do what he had always done, and played "invisible girl" as Dean liked to call it, and watched over him in secret. But there came a time where he didn't want to be silent. He wanted to talk. He knew he couldn't risk it with Dean himself, or thought he knew, but perhaps his mother might a similarly soothing presence.

'Awakened' as one might say, from heaven's artifice, Mary still enjoys an afterlife here, in the house that was once her own and now, here, will forever more remain. Castiel can understand that, that tether. He understands the allure of _home_.

"It's been a long time," Mary comments, leading him into the house, through the hall into the kitchen, where it appears she has been making tea. She holds up her kettle, and asks if Castiel wants some. A denial sits on the tup of his tongue, but at the last second he retracts it, and nods instead. Perhaps it will serve as a calming distraction, a little bit of normality in a day that is streaked with bleakness and disarray.

He sits in the wooden chair at the table across from her. "Yes, I'm sorry," he says, and does meant it. "Things have been... busy." It's a gross understatement, of course, but Castiel guesses Mary knows it is, and understands.

She smiles in solidarity and she passes him his tea and takes a seat herself, hands encircling her own mug to soak up its heat. Castiel watches the plumes of steam rise from it, and for a moment, looses himself in their mesmerising charm. 

"So what brings you back?" Mary finally asks, after a moment, snapping Castiel out of his brief reverie.

Castiel sucks in a weary breath, and looks down at his cup of tea, where the water swirls on, unperturbed by the chasm in Castiel's heart.

"Dean."

Mary raises her brow. "What have you and my son gone and done now?"

"It's--" Castiel begins, but then cuts himselff off with a restrained, frustrated huff. "I'm afraid the problem might be that, again, I've not done anything. Or enough, Or, I don't know--"

He shakes his head. Castiel closes his eyes tight, and begins again. "I was informed, that in my absence, Dean has died."

He waits for it. The admonishment., The horror. The scream, the disavowal. He waits for the punishment he knows is coming, that the _wants_.

It doesn't come

"No," he just hears.

He opens his eyes, startled. "What?"

"If Dean was dead, Ash would have come and told me," Mary explains, eyes cool and certain.. "He's not here, Castiel."

Castiel frowns in confusion, and then a wave of further horro washes over him, as the only alternative for death occurs to him in his mind. "But then--"

Mary's gaze is considering, but not accusing. "You don't have reason to think he'd be anywhere else, do you?"

"I--no.," Castiel lies, but then amends, "I don't know." He squints down at his hands, lying useless on the table top. "Maybe Metatron was lying." he mutters more to himself than anything. He has lied to Castiel countless times before, no? He has manipulated, _twisted_ words and Castiel has paid the price so much of it.

"Metatron?" Mary asks. "The scribe of God?"

Castiel nods. "The one and the same," he says. "He's not much 'of God' anymore, though, I'm afraid. Only for himself. He betrayed me, and Dean and Sam, and every other angel in heaven." He has several more things he could call Metatron at this moment, but he is so very, very _tired_.

"Sounds like a piece of work," Mary says with sympathy.

Castiel grunts. "Understatement."

Mary sighs, and takes a sip of her tea. Swalling, she sets it down neatly, and then folds her arms in front of her, giving Castiel her full, rapt attention. Castiel warms under her gaze. He knows why Dean even still thinks so fond of her. She is an amazing soul.

"Well, wherever my son is," she says, "I'm sure he's waiting for you. You should go to him."

But of course, Castiel is still thinking the worst. "What if--?"

"Stop thinking of _what ifs,_ " Mary chastises him gently, and then chuckles softly to herself. "It feels weird to 'mom' you, 'cause you have to be, what, thousands of years older than me?"

Castiel cracks a small smile at that. "Older."

She smiles back. "Well, I will anyway. Because you're Dean's friend," she pauses. "And mine, too. So stop overthinking. This is what got you in trouble last time, if I remember correctly. Dean needs you. Dean will always need you, for no other reason than he _wants_ you," she says, with no judgement at her son's choice of friends. Castiel would not begrudge her if she _did_ have some, for he has admitted to her in the past some terrible thoughts, indeed.

She reaches across the table and fold ones hand over his. "And you want him, too."

"But--"

She shakes her head, and looks at him, pouring out concern. For _both_ of them. Castiel is overwhelmed by it. "If he's hurt, or in danger, than he needs you now more than ever. Even if just to be _there_."

Castiel nods again. He knows this. He knows even if Dean is--even if he is... gone, then Sam will still need a friend to grieve and plan with, and Castiel would like to be there. If Dean is safer than Metatron let on, then surely some other kind of danger can still not be far away. But there is a sinking feeling in his gut, an ominous sense of dread that will not go away.

Mary's other hand joins the first, taking both of Castiel;s into hers. "Please be there for him, Cas," she asks. "No matter what."

Castiel raises his head, shoulders set. "I will," he tells her, and means it. He will go, he will be there. For Dean, for Sam, for whomever needs him. For _himself_ , too. He's still learning, but he knows that to be there with Dean, is to also do something for himself.

"I know you will," Mary smiles, and the stands up to but her now empty mug away in the sink. Castiel stands up, too. His own tea remains unfinished, but he must take his leave, if he is to keep his promise to Mary, to Dean, to himself. 

"I'm sorry," he says, by way of goodbye. He was always been terrible at them, farewells, but this is the least of what he can-- _should_ \--say right now. Whatever happens, he is so, so sorry.

"Don't be," Mary waves him off, offering forgiveness Castiel doesn't believe he deserves, but will take anyway, and clutch close to his chest. Dean gets many things form his mother, Castiel thinks, and forgiveness is one of them. "Just be... you. It will be enough."

Castiel swallows nervously. "How do you know?"

"Because I know my son," Mary tells him simply. "For him, you will be enough."

Castiel smiles. He wonders if this is what it would be like, if he were always human, if he and Dean had a normal life. He id had just come for dinner, an adopted stray into their family. He wonders if he would have sat beside Dean at dinner, holding his hand under the table as Mary smiled at the and Sam, by the younger brother's duty, rolled his eyes. They will never have that, of course, no matter how relatively well things in the future turn out. But maybe, just maybe, they can still find their own version of happiness, of peace.

Castiel stands tall with a renewed determination to find Dean at any cost. He did it once, didn't he? The first day they met, in all that fire and frost and darkness. There is no storm Castiel will not weather for Dean Winchester, not then, and certainly not _now_. 

"Thank you, Mary," he says.

"Anytime," she replies, giving him a tight, warm hug. "And good luck."


End file.
